


Party Crasher

by APendingThought



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Common Cold, Domestic Fluff, Fever, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 09:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APendingThought/pseuds/APendingThought
Summary: Yuuri comes down with a cold on New Year's Eve, the very night he and Viktor are to host their first major celebration as a couple. All their friends are coming. Yuuri is certain this will all end in disaster.





	Party Crasher

**Author's Note:**

> A little YOI New Year Fluff. Nothing more.

The flat has been transformed for the holidays. Garlands of golden tinsel and English party crackers festoon the halls. Glitter-filled silver and black balloons had been ordered and delivered that very afternoon. Makkachin scuttles excitedly between them, vying for attention as her masters are both preoccupied with decorating the flat prepping the Hors d'oeuvres.

“The guests will be here any second!” Viktor calls from the kitchen. He’s putting the final touches on the tray of cold appetizers. Simple slices of cucumber topped with a delicate fold of smoked salmon, garnished with a dollop of crème fraiche and chive. He’d spent the entire morning preparing traditional Russian blini and now they sit artfully arranged and steaming on a silver platter belonging to Viktor’s grandmother, waiting to be served with caviar. Champagne bottles are chilling on ice. The spread is ready to be spread. The apartment is glowing and festive. The music is already livening up each room.

Yuuri’s head feels strangely heavy though he chalks this up to giddiness at first. He can hardly contain his excitement. New Years in Russia is revered just as highly as it is in Japan. Christmas has always been regarded more as a romantic holiday and he and Viktor held no qualms over slowly making love before the fireplace on Victor’s bear fur rug, fueled by endless chilled flutes of champagne and Viktor's signature handless massage.

The morning after, however…

His head feels filled with cement and the ache from Christmas hangover has never truly gone away. Instead, a deep throaty cough has joined it along with scattered fits of sneezing and an agonizing sinus.

Between the holidays and preparations for tonight, he’s had no real chance to sleep away the symptoms. He hadn’t even been able to buy proper cold medicine. All he’d taken was a random painkiller tablet between mealtimes which staved off the symptoms that morning but now they have returned with a vengeance.

“Lapochka, you’re not even dressed!” Viktor fusses, untying his apron to hustle Yuuri into to their bedroom to change. He's planned and laid out his own New Year outfit--gray formal slacks, a casual two-toned cardigan in gray and black, an expensive black silk tie and white button up. He sighs regretfully as he runs his fingers over the shining buttons on the freshly pressed shirt. It’s their first New Years Eve party together with all their friends and he’s sure he is running a fever. 

Still, he dons the clothes and takes a look at himself in the mirror, the sharpness of his appearance making him feel a little better. He pauses to admire the clothes as he combs back his hair and styles it. He could never have imagined himself dressing like this back home in Hasetsu. The cosmopolitam life truly belongs to Viktor and now, so does he. 

A presence from behind makes him gasp but he quickly relaxes as Victor lovingly tightens his arms around his waist, drawing his body in close for a deep embrace.

“You look delectable.” He murmurs appreciatively, pressing his face into the back of Yuuri’s neck.

“It’s a good suit.” Yuuri admits, fumbling with the ends of his tie, clearing his throat. It scratches painfully as he knots the tie beneath his Adam’s apple. As his fingers brush beneath his jaw he is not surprised to find the area swollen and tender. He suppresses a shiver, making a mental note to adjust the thermostat as soon as he can get out of Viktor’s clutches. 

Victor has opted for a wine velvet blazer over a bone colored satin collared shirt. Viktor has always had a keen sense for what looks good on him. Yuuri can do nothing but agree. The plush softness of the fabric against his fingertips, the heat of Viktor’s body against his back make him feel flushed and nervous.

He is suddenly aware of his heart beginning to thump uncomfortably fast. Naturally, Viktor picks up on this.

“Eh? Yurachka, are you alright?” Viktor’s hand moves up to brush aside his bangs. “You are so warm.”

Yuuri swallows and clears his throat. The jig is up. “Um, I might have caught a cold?” He rasps.

Instantly Viktor spins him around, both cool hands pressed to Yuuri’s overwarm cheeks. “You are hot as a tea kettle! Have you taken something?”

“Pain killer. Two hours ago.” Yuuri insists, drawing away. He turns around, busying himself with finding his styling balm and cologne on the dresser. “I’ll be fine, Viktor. It won’t get in the way of tonight.”

“My poor Yura.” Viktor croons. “To feel ill on such a pivotal occasion! Don’t push it, alright? You can always come back here to rest if you need.”  
Yuuri is silently grateful but he isn’t about to let Viktor worry over him.

“There’s no need to be overdramatic.” Yuuri rolls his eyes, forcing the smile on his face. “I’ll just take another aspirin. I’ll be fine.” Except for the faint flush to his cheeks and the slight deepness of his voice, no one else should be able to tell if he’s sick.

Viktor looks ready to argue when the door buzzer rings, startling them both. The buzzer rings again and again but Viktor does not answer it right away. Instead, he gathers Yuuri into his arms and presses a fierce, passionate kiss against his mouth. Yuuri stumbles back from it, dizzy. His chest heaves slightly.

“Okay baby! Showtime!” Viktor squeals and rushes to the front door.

Yuuri nods and braces himself. He just has to get through tonight without messing up. Tonight all their friends will be gathered here to enjoy themselves and welcome the new year. He won’t let himself mess up.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
His sister and Minako sensei are the first to arrive. Minako is ravishing in a classic black dress but Mari had brought her coral silk formal kimono from Japan. Her hair is done up in a traditional style with flower ornaments and someone has shown her the glory of makeup. She looks utterly charming and Viktor hasn’t stopped reminding her for the last thirty minutes. Yuuri hangs back in the kitchen, shyly withdrawing as more guests arrive, ready with a tray of bubbling champagne to distract from his suspicious silence. His voice is unmistakably hoarse from the coughs he’s tried to suppress all evening.

He wants to groan aloud but keeps himself in check. He cannot taste or smell anything, despite the mouthwatering array of food on the table. His throat feels like razor blades with every minute breath he takes. He attempts to soothe it, nursing an inconspicuous mug of hot lemon water but that doesn’t disguise the flush of fever on his cheeks or the sweat that keeps popping up on his forehead.

He does his best to avoid conversation and retreat far into the kitchen but he’s the host and expected to be visible. At any rate, hiding becomes impossible once Yurio arrives.  
“Happy New Year!” He shouts over and over again, blasting on a noisemaker and double-fisting two wooden rattles. Yuuri’s head throbs savagely at the din. Leave it to Yurio to bring in the New Year with as much clamor as possible. Conversely, Otabek stands stoically behind his kitten, offering up a covered tray. 

“My Grandpa’s fanciest piroshky—stuffed with smoke perch and boiled egg!” Yurio announces.

Smiling, Yuuri accepts the tray and places it down on the covered white tablecloth. The savory pastries beneath look and smell amazing, even though his nose is stuffed he can detect the smell of smoked fish.

“Wow Yurio! Did you make all of these yourself?” He speaks directly into the sleeve of his shirt so he does not get any germs on the food. He hopes he doesn’t look too suspicious. Yurio puffs out his thin chest proudly.

“No, I just yelled the directions at Beka while he made them. Pretty good with his hands, no?”

“I’ll say he is.” Chris purrs with a wink, already deep into his third glass of champagne. 

Otabek shuffles his feet and clears his throat, a blush rising to his tanned cheeks. Yuuri swallows with a grimace, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too hoarse above the loud chatter and throbbing music.

“These look amazing Beka. Won’t you have some champagne?” He offers up his tray.

Beka accepts his glass with a nod, smacking Yuri’s hand away.

“Stick to soda pop, kitten.” He warns with a grin. “You’re not ready for grown up drink yet.”

Yurio growls but sucks peevishly on a glass of sparkling grape juice. His pout doesn’t last long when he gets pulled into a game of flexibility spin-the-bottle in the living room. Mila is already posed on the carpet, her silver leggings gleaming as she twists herself into an advanced yoga stretch. Yurio seems intent on outdoing her, already arranging himself into an equally challenging pose. He doesn’t seems to care or notice that his black spangled evening jacket is getting crumpled. 

Viktor plays host with expertise, re-filling champagne glasses and chatting jovially with his guests. Kisses are passed between both men and women and Yuuri does notice when Chris accepts a modest kiss on the mouth. Phichit snaps a picture. Seung Gil icily ignores him. He’s brought homemade Korean pickle and fried fish cake to the party which Yuuri is eager to sample. The spicy Korean pickle burns on his tongue and it clears up his clogged sinuses a little.

The hours drag by and Yuuri feels no better. He tries downing a glass of champagne, hoping a little drunkedness would drown out his symptoms but instead, the room gets even hotter and his chest grows even tighter. His headache, however, feels less sharp and more airy, lightheaded and strange. Viktor kisses the corner of his mouth at one point, his eyes filled with concern at the dampness on Yuuri’s forehead. Yuuri swats him away playfully, the drink making him feel less and less reserved.

The champagne is ice cold and flows easily down his throat. The bubbles, however, tickle mercilessly at his nose and soon he is exploding in a fit of sneezes.

“Heck-SHA! Akch! Akchoo!” He muffles them quickly behind his elbow, hoping no one will notice. Yurio, however, rushes up to offer him a handkerchief.

“What’s this, Katsudon? You caught a New Year’s cold?”

“N-no!” Yuuri flushes hotly, protesting. “The ch-champa—AKCHOO!” His explanation is cut off by another round of violent sneezing. The sneezes, of course, trigger his cough and he sinks down onto the sofa in defeat, cradling his hot head in his hands.

Viktor is swift at his fiancee’s side, rubbing his back soothingly. “Darling, why don’t you retire for a while?”

“And miss countdown?” Yuuri’s eyes are hot and wet with tears. “We’ve planned all week for this party!”

“Aw, let him stay Vic!” JJ croons, flirting with two giggling young girls in each arm. Only a Canadian would have the nerve to call Viktor "Vic". “We can all take a shot every time he sneezes or coughs!”

Yurio finds this hysterically funny and immediately starts filling glasses. No sooner has he topped off the last champagne flute when Yuuri feels his throat begin to tickle dangerously. He squeezes his eyes shut and just lets it happen.

“AKCHOO! CHA! HEEKSHOO!” When it is over, his head is pounding, his nose is bright red and chafed and everyone’s glass is empty.

“Oh MAN, what a rush!” Chris hoots. “This drinking game is most opportune.”

Yuuri’s face goes even redder with shame. Viktor throws a dirty glare at Chris.

“Alright everyone, point made.” He announces, draining his own glass.

Yuuri wants to sink between the sofa cushions and disappear. He opens his mouth to speak to Viktor, shout above the music to get him to rejoin the party but the instant he does so, his chest erupts into a fit of dry hacks, coughing to shake up the congestion in his chest.

Viktor doesn’t pass up an opportunity to tip back another glass of champagne but he is not about to have his fiancée become the joke of the evening.

“Yuuchan, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Mari scolds him, patting at his sweat dampened hair. “Do you want to lie down?”

“No. I’m fine. Everyone please go away.” He mutters.

“Da.” Viktor agrees, gently lifting the half empty glass of champagne out of Yuuri’s numb hands. “I think you’ve had enough tonight, lapochka.”

Yuuri’s eyes flutter open and closed, suddenly feeling strangely drowsy. He clears his throat again with an ugly sound, wincing in pain. Viktor lingers back a moment longer, his cool fingers crushing against Yuuri’s cheek to check his temperature but he is soon pulled up and off the couch by Yakov and Yuuri is left alone.

Yuuri watches the evening go by in a half drunk haze. He feels distant and woozy, there and yet not there. Yurio is dancing with Seung Gil, pulling the stoic boy into a sensual hip shaking dance. Several toasts are made, several items of clothing go missing. Phichit shakes with laughter at Mila who is doing something mysterious with her lipstick. Soon the ceiling vibrates as the Russians all begin a rousing chorus of some traditional song in fierce competition with the French who have their own national songs to clash with. Accents get sloppy. It’s all a cacophony of noise and Yuuri moans at the pain it causes inside his skull. 

“They’re all enjoying themselves…” He sulks miserably. “I can’t even get up from this sofa.”

Oddly enough it’s Beka who rescues him.

He hardly notices the Khazak youth as his weight sinks silently down beside him. Beka does not speak to him, does not attempt to touch him or feel sorry for him. He just sits, stoic and watchful, and offers up a bottle of water. 

“Drink.” He says.

The cold water feels good as it flows down, soothing the hot swelling of his inflamed throat. Hydration is probably the best idea so far. Yuuri is suddenly grateful for Beka’s quiet unassuming presence. Still a bit tipsy and not altogether himself, he sidles up close against the Khazak soldier and grins shyly.

“Beka, you saved me.” He slurs. Before the stunned boy can react, Yuuri throws his feverish weight against him and hugs him tightly with a sound hiccup. Sweat breaks out on Otabek’s brow and his dark eyes search frantically about for help.

He is rescued when Minako screeches: “It’s time! It’s time! Everybody get yer asses on deck!”

The guests all scramble with a roar outside to the terrace which boasts a clear view of the Neva River. The ceremony barges have already gathered and from below cars honk their horns in unison, the revelers outside howling to ring in the New Year.

The countdown has begun.

It’s Yurio who drags Yuuri’s clingy, feverish frame off Beka, shoving the Khazak boy forcefully outside. But Viktor gathers Yuuri gently in his arms and walks him outside to see the show. The blast of frozen air instantly makes Yuuri cringe against Viktor's warm frame. Firework displays thunder and crackle over the black shining river, bursting into flowers of red, purple, orange and green. Yuuri takes it all in, drunk and half delirious. 

10

9

8

7

Yuuri shivers with cold from the outside, the biting wind piercing through the thin fabric of his cardigan. Though his face is still hot from fever and the party inside, he suddenly feels naked without Viktor’s arms around him.

6

5

 

Chris has somehow managed to French kiss two boys at one time, obliterating some official record. Phichit is hugging tightly to Seung Gil, counting off in his native Thai. Yurio has all but torn the leather jacket from Beka’s muscled torso, pulling him into a ferocious kiss that is far too old for him and much too fast.

4

Viktor’s arms tighten around his waist, blue eyes shining and sparking reflecting the explosions. Rainbow colors swirl in the clear mirror of his gaze. Yuuri stands transfixed as he moves in closer, lips wet, soft and ready.

3

Yuuri stiffens in warning, shakes his head, turns quickly away. No, they must not kiss! Viktor will certainly catch this miserable cold! He mustn't--!

2

Cold fingers grip his chin, turning him forcefully around and holding him firmly in place... 

1

Explosions burst behind his eyes and he cannot distinguish between the rockets and the pounding of his heart. The world is a fuzzy haze of sound and color. He surrenders to Viktor's hot tongue, parting his lips in a deep kiss. His mouth tastes like cranberries and mint from whatever he’d been drinking and the musk of his cologne makes Yuuri's head spin, stronger with the sweat of his body. Yuuri moans in want. He doesn’t care anymore. He can feel his heart beating triple time against Viktor’s chest long after the singing commences and the cheers and hugs are passed around between the guests. They all disappear. Yuuri feels, sees and hears nothing but Viktor. Even the bitter chill of the new year night vanishes like smoke. His knees are weak, his defenses have left him.

He is certain photos will end up on social media accounts later. He'll fret about it then.

When the world stops vibrating and 2018 settles in comfortably, the party is already winding down. Beka has lost his shirt and Yurio has not a thing to say about it for once. It’s amusing to watch the normally reserved skater smile and laugh privately with Yurio, familiar touches and intimacy so natural between him and the Ice Tiger of Russia. Viktor agrees to let them spend the night on the sofa while he and Yuuri say their good nights.

Ubers are called, numbers are exchanged, selfies are taken and Instagrams are updated.

Yuuri is so grateful to slide beneath the warm duvet next to Viktor that he almost weeps. His head is still thrumming, his heart hasn't slowed down entirely, and he is sure his temperature is soaring but he feels exhausted in a good way. He is too tired to even undress from his sweaty party clothes but that can all wait for the morning.

He bites his lip shyly and places a shy, gentle kiss on Viktor’s mouth.

“Happy New Year, darling.” He whispers hoarsely.

Viktor answers with a delicate sneeze, his pale chest hitching slightly. “Ungh! Yuuri, I think I caught your grotty cold.” Already, his pale skin is slightly pink with fever.

Yuuri drops his head onto Viktor’s bare shoulder, huffing out a tired laugh. 

"Yuuriiii~" Viktor whines pathetically. "Don't laugh, lapochka. I'm sick."

Yuuri cradles him close, shoving his cold nose into the warm space between his shoulder and neck. Viktor grimaces with a yelp, squirming against his pillow, but Yuuri is too buzzed to care. All he knows is that he is cold and Viktor is warm. He's just thought of his new year's resolution: share everything.

Kisses. Heartbeats. Shirts. Body heat.


End file.
